


Sigh No More

by Dynamia Eromai (Demixian)



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Fandom
Genre: F/M, sorry im doing this in english and i had some Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 05:07:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10914942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demixian/pseuds/Dynamia%20Eromai
Summary: Scorpius and Rose have become well known at Hogwarts for their frequent skirmishes of wit -- however, perhaps there is a bigger picture behind this seemingly friendly rivalry?





	Sigh No More

**Author's Note:**

> Just a note....I did NOT beta this...because I'm lazy. I'll edit it and clean it up later but I just wanted to finish it and release it so y'all could see this GENIUS (or rather, my attempt at trying to translate shakespeare). Enjoy!

 

 

 

 

 

_Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,_

_Men were deceivers ever,_

_One foot in sea and one on shore,_

_To one thing constant never._

_Then sigh not so, but let them go,_

_And be you blithe and bonny,_

_Converting all your sounds of woe_

_Into Hey, nonny nonny!_

 

~~~

 

A student at Hogwarts will generally have a busy schedule — what with seven lessons a day, prep time in the morning, homework time in the evenings and only two short breaks for them catch their breaths. 

 

It is a great wonder, therefore, how Scorpius Malfoy and Rose Granger-Weasley always manage to fit in time to have an intense skirmish of wit.

 

Although these instances are irregular and in rather brief bursts, they always escalate quickly into intense verbal combats, almost always initiated by Rose (although Scorpius has been known to sneak in an offhand remark about Rose while walking past her in the corridors, which usually results in a hissed argument as they attempted to avoid contact entirely).

 

Their classmates once, a long time ago, found humour in this, and indeed there is the occasion when one makes a particularly clever riposte that elicits surprised titters for the crowd. However, more recently the constant bickering by their sharp-tongued colleagues has become rather irritating, seeing as it often holds up the otherwise steady rate of students flowing from one class to the next. 

 

In particular, their respective best friends aren’t enormously tolerant of having to stop for a full two minutes every time their friend decides to make some bitter comment on the other’s hair, or shoes, or tea leaf preference. 

 

Albus Potter and Polly Chapman, the unfortunate aforementioned best friends, perch on two tattered leather stools in the school library, tucked away behind the Arithmancy section — the most desolate part of the library.

 

“She won’t hear of it,” Polly sighs, crossing her legs with a little ‘hmph!’. “I mean, I probably offered the name of every male I know the name of in our year. And beyond.”

 

Albus furrows his brow. “You didn’t try any girls’ names?”

 

“Yes, but as soon as I mentioned just one she furiously insisted she doesn’t fancy girls, as if I’d just suggested that she should go out with the Giant Squid.”

 

“Shame,” he replies, shaking his head. “If she did swing for the other team we probably wouldn’t have this problem.”

 

Polly frowns. “Don’t be so sure. She would easily find a girl to pretend to hate.”

 

“Maybe we’re overanalysing this,” Albus cautiously begins. “Perhaps they really do hate each other.”

 

“Not a chance. Nobody could fight with somebody they hate that passionately.”

 

“I don’t see why not. I mean, if we do go through with this — if we do set them up…and if they do hate each other, then, then…well, we’ll be setting up two people who don’t love each other. Surely…surely that isn’t healthy. Or fair.”

 

 Polly purses her lips tightly and leans forwards in a rather threatening manner, her eyes wide and brow raised condescendingly. “Now, Albus. Do you truly think that’s the case?”

 

He hesitates, feigning pensiveness. “No.”

 

“Precisely,” she replies, sitting back again and placing her folded hands in her lap with an air of formality. “So what say you, Potter?”

 

Albus nods, the suggestion of a sly grin forming on his lips. “Let’s do it.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

By Tuesday it is officially mid-summer, and robes are being flung aside this way and that. In the corridor between the smallest Charms classroom and the storage cupboard, two metaphorical robes are coming off as yet another scrimmage of pent up wrath begins to unfold.

 

It starts with Scorpius loudly announcing to his classmates how very happy he is to not be, as he says:

 

“shackled by the chains of infatuation,”, just above normal volume and with immense pride. “I’m blessed to not have some sort of ridiculous attraction to another student here, so I might actually get some work done. Unlike some of you, yes, I’m looking at you, JJ. Unlike JJ, I am free to be myself, without caring what the person I like thinks of me.”

 

It is at this moment that Rose saunters by the small crowd, wrinkling her nose and raising her eyebrows in exaggerated surprise. “Are you still banging on about that, Malfoy? Nobody’s listening to you, you know.”

 

“Ah, it’s Little Miss Snark,” Scorpius exclaims, wheeling around to face her. “You’re still around, are you? I was hoping you’d fallen in the lake."

 

Rose scoffs derisively. “I’m not going anywhere, just so long as you’re still swanning about, giving me fine ammunition.”

 

“Oh, that’s sweet,” coos Scorpius in rapid reply, smiling with a sickening malice. “You think that, perhaps. But the girls here are not a hive mind, and you’re certainly not their queen. I’m sure most, if not all the girls like me to some extent, only barring you. I mean, it’s not like I like them all back, but that’s just how I roll these days.”

 

Again, Rose scoffs, and rolls her eyes with a dramatic sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. What a blessing to the sad few girls who are under the delusion you’re something to be desired. I’d rather listen to the constant twittering of a morning bird than hear some boy tell me he fancies me.”

 

“Good. If any boy was crazy enough to pursue you, they’d be in for a nasty surprise.”

 

“Not as nasty a surprise as your face would be to the poor girl who did finally get a look at you close up.”

 

A low hum of impressed ‘Ooh!’s echoes throughout the hall.

 

Scorpius scowls, unnerved. “Listen to you, you’re like a parrot. You just turn another’s words into your own, like that makes you clever.”

 

“I’d rather be a squawking bird than a beast like you.”

 

A louder rumble of ‘OH!’s rattles from the crowd.

 

Scorpius’ face contorts into a furious indignant frown, and he stares Rose down in defiance. “If only my owl was as fast as your tongue! I’m over this.”

 

With that, he throws his hands up in a flourish of finality and turns on his heel, tearing through the crowd in one direction, Rose storming away in the other.

 

“You always end up lashing out and giving up,” she mutters beneath her breath. “I’ve known you too long."

 

Albus and Polly meet each other’s gaze from across the slowly dissipating crowd, and each give the other a affirming nod before following after their friends.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

The library is scarce at this time of day, as most students are eating lunch or out playing and having fun. Scorpius, however, cares for neither activity at this moment, and instead confines himself to the library where he quietly reads up on how to mix a strong Draught of Living Death.

 

After reading the recipe through thrice and still left rather confused by the end of it, he sets the book down on his lap and tuts to himself.

 

“It is amazing that someone may see someone else fall unfortunately in love and laugh at them, only to turn around and learn nothing from it. Albus used to be cool. Now it’s like he’s avoiding me, always spending time with that dreadful Polly Chapman. First Delphi, now her. We used to listen to old Weird Sisters songs on the radio, and now I suppose he’d rather hear Polly’s voice over my own. I remember when we used to swear like sailors when we were younger, but now he speaks like a…like a _scholar_. Maybe he really does fancy her. The idiot. I can’t see myself ever returning to that giddy state again. I hope I never do.”

 

He sighs deeply, resting his head against the back of his chair and shutting his eyes in resignation. 

 

“How could I be sure that it won’t all happen again if I do?” he asks himself, secretly begging for an answer. “I won’t let myself get caught up in the teenage fancy-fest, that’s for sure. No matter how few layers some girl is wearing, I’m not going to start tripping over myself to talk to her. She could be the smartest person in the world, and do all my homework for me, but I still wouldn’t sacrifice bachelorhood just to get an easy ride on education. She could dote on me ’til she’s blue in the face, but I’m not getting off with anybody unless I really like them. I won’t end up like Albus, taken by infatuation. I’m better than that.”

 

As he muses this to himself, he notices faint footsteps approach the aisle besides him, and the distinct voice of Albus, as well as that of Lorcan Lovegood. 

 

“Here comes _Casanova_ himself,” Scorpius mutters. “If he wants to talk to me, he’ll have to seek me out.” With this, he carefully gets up and kneels down behind one side of the chair, looking down at the cover of his book but not really reading it. 

 

Albus and Lorcan saunter past the aisle besides the one they are fairly sure they just overheard Scorpius mumbling to himself in, assuming slightly melodramatic personas. 

 

“So, uh, what was it you were saying about Rose the other day?” Albus begins, his voice a few notches louder than usual. 

 

“Oh, yes,” Lorcan replies. He hushes his voice and leans in close to Albus’ ear so that only Albus may listen. “Stay right here, I definitely saw him skulk away behind that big green armchair.”

 

Albus gives Lorcan a small, understanding nod, and reassumes his projecting voice. “Do tell me what it was about Rose. I never thought she’d be fond of anybody, save for immediate family.”

 

“I didn’t either,” responds Lorcan with a knowing smirk. “But it’s so wonderful that she does feel fond of Scorpius, even if she does pretend otherwise.”

 

Scorpius audibly gasps. “No...” he whispers, his breath hitching.

 

Albus, meanwhile, avoids subtly at all costs. “She could be putting you on. For a joke."

 

“ _Certainly_ not!” Lorcan insists with theatrical conviction. “I have never seen her more sincere and earnest than I did when she finally broke down. This is not just her pulling my leg. This is _love_.”

 

Albus restrains a bashful chuckle. He drops his voice to a whisper and says to Lorcan, “he’s going to fall so hard for this.”

 

Lorcan grins, nodding.

 

“What did she say?” Albus asks, projecting his voice even louder this time.

 

“What did she _say_?” Lorcan scoffs, feigning incredible incredulity. “She said a lot, but actions speak louder than words.”

 

“Tell me! Tell me!” Albus chirps, genuine excitement rising within him as he anticipates Lorcan’s tales. “I really didn’t peg her as the hopeless romantic sort.”

 

“Same here! Especially with _Scorpius_ ,” Lorcan drawls in reply with explicit diction.

 

Scorpius hugs the book to his stomach, gulping anxiously. “Lorcan never lies,” he susurrates to himself, shuddering.

 

“Now that you mention it, though, I do remember copying homework off her once, and finding a letter she addressed to ‘My Darling Scorpius',” Albus declares slyly, his eyes shifting over to the gap in the bookcase that allows him to see the armchair on the other side, and the tip of Scorpius’ foot sticking out from behind it.

 

“Really?” Lorcan replies with excessive surprise in his tone. “Positively _scandalous_!"

 

“I pointed it out to her, and she snatched the paper from me and tore it apart in a fit of flustered embarrassment, shouting and half-sobbing that she’s ‘just as bad as him’, and that she would mercilessly tease him for writing her such a letter, and how she treats him so horribly because she  _loves_ him,” Albus explains, clearly and with a tone of deep intrigue and enthralment.

 

“Well, _once_ , when we were alone in the Gryffindor common room together, she broke down sobbing and crying, beating her chest and tearing out her hair, yelling ‘Scorpius’ over and over and over!”

 

Albus gives Lorcan a rather unsettled look, unsure of how easily Scorpius will absorb this admittedly rather over-dramatic description, however they do hear him genuinely gasp from behind the chair (and subsequently attempt to muffle himself once again).

 

“Wow,” says Albus at last, raising his eyebrows with partly genuine surprise. “Well, why doesn’t she tell him, do you think?”

 

“She probably thinks he wouldn’t reciprocate her feelings, or even accept them gently,” Lorcan replies, leaning towards to the gap in the books to make sure Scorpius hears every single word. “After all, he throws such _dreadful_ insults her way all the time, she has no reason to believe he likes her."

 

“I guess you’re right,” Albus responds, sighing loudly. “He probably upsets her, and she’s trying to defend herself.”

 

At this, Scorpius draws his knees up and buries his head in his lap, distressed. 

 

Albus sees the foot retract and the sound of a distraught sigh, and understands the sign of a job done.

 

“Good job, Lorc,” he mouths at his accomplice, not daring to risk ruining all his hard work by letting Scorpius catch on.

 

Lorcan nods at him, seeming similarly proud of his contribution to the Plan.

 

Shortly thereafter, the two deceivers leave, though not before pretending to put a book back each so as to justify their visit to the library. 

 

Once the door shuts behind them, Scorpius unfolds himself into a sprawled position on the floor, clutching his chest in shock with one hand and grasping his book with other.

 

“They…they really mean it. They must do. Lorcan _never_ lies,” he mutters breathily. “They pity her. Like she’s a victim. A victim of affection.”

 

He sits up abruptly, throwing his book aside. “She likes me.” His eyes glitter with ardour. “Well, now I certainly can’t pretend I don’t the feel the same way! Not after all this time. But…but I can’t just _tell_ her I know. I’ll seem cocky — and she already thinks I’m too brash. I need to be soft. I need to prove I can be gentle and caring, and she’ll approach me more fondly.”

 

Standing up now, Scorpius scoops up his book and places it back in its gap. “I never thought I’d feel this way again,” he swoons, grinning lazily. “She really is beautiful. And yet she still fascinates me. She’s kind…when we’re not fighting. And smart. Definitely smart. Even if she’s fallen in love with _me_ , of all people.”

 

He leans, with a wistful sigh on his lips, against the bookshelf. “Maybe I am an idiot, and Albus will laugh at me again for going against my own objections to relationships. But tastes change! Why can’t I still love her even after every foul name she’s called me?”

 

As he swoons and sings to himself, he hears another pair of feet approaching the library, and quick glance towards the entrance reveals a newly stunning Rose stomping in.

 

“Here she comes,” he whispers to himself, quickly adjusting his hair, straightening his robes and sitting down on the chair in attempt to look casual.

 

Rose wears a sour expression on her face, her brow more than sufficiently furrowed, her nose wrinkled and her lips pursed in a frown, poised for take off. 

 

“I’ve been forced to come get you for lunch,” she snaps, shifting her weight onto one foot and tapping the other impatiently.

 

“Thank you so much,” Scorpius breathes, looking up at her fondly. “For going to the trouble, I mean.”

 

“Trust me, I went to no trouble,” she scoffs, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. “If I'd had to I wouldn’t have bothered.”

 

Scorpius smiles coyly. “So you were happy to come for me?” 

 

“Sure. As happy as I am when I have to muck out Archie,” Rose replies, looking disgusted. “If you’re not hungry, fine. I won’t force you. Bye.”

 

“Goodbye, Rose.”

 

She gives him one last confused, disdainful glance before turning away and leaving Scorpius alone once again, flinging the double doors open angrily.

 

Once she is fully out of earshot, Scorpius lets out a gleeful laugh. “Hah! ‘I’ve been forced to come get you’ indeed! If I don’t tell her that I love her soon I’ll look like an utter prat. I must find some way — any way — to tell Rose Granger-Weasley that I love her.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“What an utter twit,” Rose grumbles to herself, angrily sashaying down the corridor back towards the great hall. She pauses only to catch a glimpse at the timetable for the upcoming N.E.W.Ts that is pinned on a cork board, and as she is examining the times for her Arithmancy exam, she picks up the sound of Polly Chapman’s laugh. 

 

On the verge of turning the corner to meet her, Rose hesitates as she hears another girl’s voice accompanying Polly’s laughter.

 

“But are you sure Scorpius likes Rose that much?”

 

She freezes, holding her breath, one hand resting against the wall dividing her and the two girls for support.

 

“That’s what Albus and Dom say.”

 

Polly peers at the reflection in the windows across from her and her friend, Georgia Carberry, which reveals the third girl hiding just around the corner. 

 

Georgia momentarily drops her over-enigmatic tone. “How is Dom? Has he asked you out yet?”

 

“Yes,” Polly replies, smiling with similar distraction. “We’re going into Hogsmeade together. He’s buying me a drink at the Three Broomsticks.”

 

“Sounds like you’re really in love,” Georgia says, beginning to raise her voice again. “Like poor old Scorpius. Didn’t they want you to tell her that he fancies her?”

 

“They did. But I told Albus that if he really cares about him, he wouldn’t let Rose find out, and would instead tell him to just repress his feelings.”

 

“Why on earth would you do that?” Georgia cries incredulously, clutching her heart and gasping. “Doesn’t she deserve to know, at least? And surely Scorpius deserves the right to love her if he wants.”

 

“Sure, but what do you think he’d get out of it? If he told her how he really felt, he’s too afraid that Rose will shut him down and call him names, like she always does.”

 

“Like she always does,” Georgia echoes.

 

“She’s so busy with exams, and schoolwork, she hasn’t any time for love or dating, I suppose.”

 

“I suppose so too. It would be horrible if he poured his heart out to her and she teased him for it. Think of the kind of man he’ll grow up to be!”

 

Rose feels her chest ache with guilt, and she claws the stone wall in despair. 

 

Polly shakes her head with long, drawn out sigh. “Every boy who approaches her, she teases and mocks. If he’s handsome, he’s a ‘pretty boy’, if he’s smart, he’s a ‘nerd’, if he’s kind, he’s a ‘pushover’. If he’s all at once he’s Scorpius, and that’s an insult in itself to her.”

 

“That’s not something to be admired,” Georgia tuts. “It’s a wild wonder Scorpius is so very taken with her.”

 

“If she said half the things she says to him to me, I’d probably disintegrate,” remarks Polly, stepping closer to the corner and instantly spotting (via the reflection) Rose retreat, still evidently distressed. “But he takes every punch, if only for the impassioned interaction.”

 

“You should still tell her about this!” Georgia insists vehemently. She follows Polly towards the corner, also catching sight of the moving reflection. “See what she truly thinks about it.”

 

In the distance, the timid hoot of a clearly jaded owl echoes through the grounds, and Rose feels herself shuddering with anxiety. 

 

“No,” Polly bluntly replies. “I’ll tell him to keep fighting his feelings, for his own sake. I’ll tell him how much she hates him, and that any such confessions will earn him a good slap.”

 

Georgia practically faints with the scandalised gasp that follows this. “You can’t trash your best friend like that! She’s smart, Polly. And, deep down, she’s kind. I’m sure if you told her how Scorpius pines after her, she’d be sympathetic. Maybe she’d drop the harsh words altogether, and they could be friends again. Perhaps more...”

 

“Scorpius is such a lovely person,” Polly drawls, her voice raising to no less than a shout.

 

“Yeah. No offence,” says Georgia, winking at her friend knowingly. “But I think he’s even more kind, smart and handsome than even Dom!”

 

Rose is about ready to faint this time. Dominic Marshall is one of the most adored boys in the school, by girls and other boys alike. Georgia can’t be serious.

 

Gasping in semi-feigned indignity, Polly cries, “oh! You must be joking!”

 

“I’m not! I think she’s lucky to have a boy like Scorpius so desperately in love with her,” Georgia professes. She grabs Polly’s arm and draws her towards herself, whispering, “we’ve set sufficient bait I think.”

 

“Agreed.” Polly stands up straight again and loudly states, “Let’s go get some lunch now, I’m starving!”

 

The two of them burst into delighted giggles that they needn’t disguise now, and disappear through the doors to the Great Hall.

 

Rose, now backed against the cool stone wall, slides down to the floor and lets her legs flop sideways into a sitting position. “I…I can’t believe it.” 

 

A gentle breeze whistles down the corridor, sending additional shivers down her spine.

 

“Do they really think I’m that horrible? That I have no sympathy?” She feels her eyes begin to water. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t….I can’t…I can’t act like this. Like I’m proud to be alone.”

 

With some struggle, Rose rises to her feet, pushing a loose obsidian-flecked corkscrew coil of hair out of her eyes. 

 

“Scorpius,” she says softly, willing him to hear her despite being yards away now. “You mustn’t fight it any more. I’ll show them — I’ll show you that I’m not just a highly-strung ball of spite. I’ll show you I’m capable of love. And if you accept me back into your life, I hope we never break apart again.” She begins to pace incandescently. "Of course you deserve me,” she cries, practically laughing. “It’s a question of if I deserve you…”

 

Overcome with this strange sense of mixed happiness and confusion for the first time it what must have been years, Rose clutches her heart and gazes out of the large window opposite her, through which a partially-blinding flood of crisp, golden sunlight streams splendidly, washing her in its majesty.

 

“God, I hope I do.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

Come Wednesday, and Rose and Scorpius have not met again since their conversation in the library. However, Albus’ and Polly’s plan is young in execution yet, and once the two rivals meet again they shall see the fruit of their labour.

 

Meanwhile, a quickly escalating fight has broken out between Polly and her boyfriend, Dom. Dom claims, much to Polly’s surprise, that he and Albus caught her passionately french-kissing a different boy in the Ravenclaw tower. 

 

Unfortunately, this recent development in their lives has caused quite the rift in Albus and Polly’s partnership, with Albus swearing he saw he tousled blond head pressed against a window, the hands of another boy clutching her face. 

 

Since that evening, when Albus, Polly and Dom all had a heated argument leading Dom to storm away in a rage, they haven’t been able to focus much on the little love project involving their friends. 

 

A knock comes from just outside the door to the Slytherin common room, and a disgruntled and lonely Albus stands up to take it.

 

Opening the door reluctantly, he is met by a weary Polly staring at him in the eye.

 

“Morning, Potter.”

 

“Morning, Chapman.”

 

They stand silence for a moment, in a sort of half-asleep standoff. 

 

“Can I come in?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Polly takes the loveseat opposite the sofa, where Albus resumes his sprawling.

 

“Where’s Scorpius?”

 

“In the bathroom. He’s been in there ages. Everyone else went to breakfast.”

 

“Except for you.”

 

“And you.”

 

She looks down at her hands, folded in her lap.

 

“I wasn’t hungry.”

 

“Neither was I.”

 

Before they can continue with their incredibly engaging discussion, Scorpius’ joyful humming carries down the stairs to the common room and they quickly assume a casual demeanour.

 

Scorpius canters down the stairs, still humming and singing, adjusting his tie and stroking his chin, completely oblivious to his company as he makes straight for the mirror propped up on the stationery cupboard.

 

“ _Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more_ ,” he coos, gazing foolishly at his reflection.

 

“ _Men were deceivers ever_ ,” Polly recites, smirking. 

 

Scorpius spins around, shocked and momentarily embarrassed. He quickly reassumes his proud demeanour and smiles at her gently. “Hello, Polly. Gorgeous day, isn’t it? I feel like singing.”

 

“Perhaps don’t always act on your feelings,” Albus replies bitterly, squinting at Polly with harsh scrutiny. She glares back.

 

“Everything in moderation,” Polly adds. “ _Including_ moderation.”

 

Sensing a tense atmosphere, Scorpius heads for the door, shaking his head. “What? Are you two having a lover’s tiff?”

 

“Not at all,” Albus hisses. “That sort of argument is reserved for her and Dom, as he is the one she’s been unfaithful to.”

 

“Oh.” Scorpius blinks. “I see.”

 

Scowling, Polly retorts, “I’ve been no more unfaithful to him as you’ve been unfaithful to me! By _lying_.” 

 

Albus scoffs. “We saw you, Chapman!” he derides her. “Clear as _day_.”

 

“A foggy winter’s day, perhaps!”

 

The door closes suddenly, and both Albus and Polly jump as they turn to see Scorpius disappear behind it.

 

“At least one of us is still in love,” Polly remarks, not daring to meet Albus’ eye again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

There is still another half an hour before classes start, and Scorpius has no need for breakfast, as he had no need for dinner. Love satiates the appetite considerably when one is blinded by their affection.

 

He descends upon the entrance to the grounds, where only the most pensive intellectuals of the school venture in the mornings. Not that he fancies himself as one of these intellectuals, but he has recently rediscovered an intimate affinity for one of them, and he intends to find her.

 

The sounds of gentle weeping draw him to the riverbank, where she kneels, a pen sleeping in her slacked hand and her revision notes scattered before her. Her bag is unzipped and spilling over with her stationery and books, and her free hand is holding her face as she quietly sniffles.

 

“Rose?” Scorpius begins tentatively. She looks up abruptly, her eyes still beautiful despite having swollen with tears. “Have you been crying this whole time?”

 

“Yes,” Rose replies breathily, swallowing with a shaken expression. “And I’ll keep crying all day.”

 

With a sympathetic sigh, Scorpius kneels down next to her, bearing a look of deepest earnest on his face. “Oh, Rose. You mustn’t. I don’t want you to.”

 

“I won’t stop crying,” she insists. “Not until _he_ apologises."

 

It must now have been an eternity since Rose showed any sort of weakness — although as Scorpius gazes at her sparkling eyes, adorned with yet fallen tears, he sees no marks of weakness or cowardice in her sorrow. He sees anger. A scintillating flame of vengeance soon to be fanned into a blazing, crackling flare, should nothing be done about it.

 

“I don’t think Polly did make out with that Ravenclaw boy,” he states, stiffening his posture slightly to appear brazen. “I think Albus and Dom — they’re mistaken. Polly’s a lovely girl.”

 

Rose’s expression softens significantly, the spark in her eyes transforming into a gentle glow.

 

“I’ll do anything to prove it,” Scorpius continues, prickling slightly with Rose’s intently staring, deep-set eyes captivating all his attention. “Anything.”

 

Anything to sweeten her view of him, Scorpius thinks. Anything to prove Albus, Lorcan and Rose alike wrong. He can be sensitive. He can be loving.

 

“You wouldn’t,” she replies softly, looking away — much to Scorpius’ disappointment. “You would never…”

 

“Rose,” Scorpius firmly interjects. “I’m not ashamed to say that there is nothing in the world that — that I care about more than you.”

 

Her eyes snap back in line with his, wide and amazed. 

 

“Is…is that strange?” he asks cautiously, biting his lip. 

 

Rose slowly shakes her head in reply. “No. I mean, not as strange as the fact that I could easily say the same about you.”

 

They go silent.

 

Then, suddenly, Rose adds with haste, “but — but don’t listen to me. I’m not…I’m not saying anything. I’m not — You know, I’m not trying to impose—“

 

“You love me,” Scorpius proclaims at last. “You do!”

 

“Don’t—“ she blushes, “— don’t…I didn’t mean…I know what you’re going to say now but you mustn’t say it! Not if…not if you’re not certain…”

 

“I am,” he beseeches of her, taking pity in her flustered state. “I’m not putting you on. I love you, Rose! I’ll punch anyone who says otherwise!”

 

Taking her hands in his own, he stares at her, willing her -- _begging_ her to reply. 

 

“And you mean that?” she asks him tentatively, raising an eyebrow.

 

“Of course!” cries Scorpius in return. “I mean it sincerely. I love you.”

 

They go silent again, as Rose breaks down into laughter.

 

“What?”

 

“Sorry!” she giggles, shaking her head vigorously, grasping onto Scorpius’ hands and refusing to let go.

 

“Why?”

 

With a breathy laugh, she finally answers, “I was going to say it first.”

 

“Then say it!” Scorpius insists, his right hand sliding up her forearm and cupping her elbow. “Yell it, even!”

 

“I love you!” she just barely cackles, blushing profusely and looking down at her lap. “I really…I _love_ you.”

 

When she looks up again, there is an electricity in the air around them, and it seems only right to surge forward as she then does.

 

Their noses clash at first, but in the high of the moment they press on, their lips finally meeting in warmly-welcomed matrimony. 

 

Scorpius’ hand cups Rose’s velvety cheek, catching a loose curl with his ring finger and winding the curl idly around it. With a new wave of energy, Rose grasps him by his partially-sloped shoulders and strokes the soft material of his robe. 

 

When the two force themselves apart, holding the other at arms length as if to get a good, full view of them (and also partly as if they are aghast at their action), they are gasping and struggling not to shriek with laughter and elation.

 

Beaming splendidly, Scorpius moves his hands to Rose's shoulders, shaking her slightly. “I knew it! I knew Lorcan would never lie!”

 

“What do you mean?” Rose questions him slowly, cocking her head to one side.

 

“I overheard him and Albus in the library, they—“ he giggles in spite of himself, “— they said that you were pining after me. I couldn’t quite believe it at first.”

 

Rose clicks her tongue with a slowly morphing expression of bitter comprehension on her face. “ _Did_ they now?”

 

“Uh…yes?” reaffirms Scorpius, slightly less confident now.

 

“You know something funny,” Rose begins, looking away towards the castle. “I overheard Polly and Georgia saying that you were openly — to them, in any case — and desperately pining over me, but that you were repressing it.”

 

Scorpius looks sheepish. “Oh.”

 

“Funny.”

 

“Very much so.”

 

Silence.

 

Complete comprehension hangs in the air like a bitter smell.

 

“I think…” Rose begins, folding her hands in her lap once again. “I think I was just so ready to believe it. I was fooled by two giggling school girls.”

 

“So was I,” replies Scorpius, giving her a comical, lopsided smile. “Except they were boys and they don’t giggle much — unless you count every time Albus catches me swishing around in my robes, trying to attempt a sassy, glamorous spin.”

 

Chuckling, Rose wipes away the remaining tears on the brink of dribbling down her cheek. Scorpius catches her eye again, and feels himself glow with fondness.

 

Taking her hands in his own with a stern grip, he says, “Rose, honestly. If there is anything you want of me — anything I might do to sort out the situation with Polly, or anything else that would make you happy — I will do it."

 

Rose glances away solemnly, and when she looks back up at him she sighs.

 

“You won’t like it…”

 

“Try me.”

 

She sighs again. “I…I want Albus to be punished for what he said about Polly. Dom is a bloody idiot, its no wonder he mistook some other girl for her, but Albus should have know better.”

 

“Well, what…what do you want me to do to him?”

 

“I’m not certain,” Rose begins, glancing down at her fidgeting hands. “Just…anything to make him feel properly sorry for what he did to her.”

 

He gulps. “I…I can’t…if you’re suggesting I try to…to beat him up…”

 

“Perhaps not that, exactly,” she chuckles, before assuming a practically devilish tone. “I was thinking we could…play them at their own game. Polly and Albus.”

 

“Oh?” Scorpius smirks. “How so?”

 

“I reckon we can play rivals one last time. Just for show.”

 

“As if we’ve been doing it for anything else this whole time?”

 

They cackle, falling backwards onto the grass.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

Before they can put their plan into action the following day, Dom ashamedly approaches Polly at lunch that day with the news that, due to the girl he and Albus really saw in the Ravenclaw tower anxiously explaining the situation to him, he no longer thinks Polly a ‘tart’, and the two reconcile. Still ready to spite their wannabe matchmakers, however, Rose and Scorpius go ahead with their plan.

 

They execute their plan in the same small corridor between the small Charms classroom and the storage cupboard, making sure that Albus and Polly are amongst their audience.

 

“Hey, Weasley!” Scorpius calls amongst the sea of bustling students. Some quickly gather to form a circle around the two of them, some begrudgingly turn to witness what they assume is yet another argument.

 

“It’s  _Granger_ -Weasley, Malfoy,” Rose spits back, giving him the tiniest fraction of a smirk. 

 

Scorpius sneers. “Do you fancy me, _Granger_ -Weasley?”

 

The crowd chokes.

 

“No more than you deserve. Which is to say, not at all”

 

“Albus Potter and Lorcan Lovegood seem to think otherwise," Scorpius replies loudly, catching Albus’ eye. “I believe we have two deceivers among us.”

 

Both Albus and Polly cringe from opposite sides of the circle, glancing at each other anxiously. 

 

“Do you fancy _me_ , Malfoy?” Rose asks matter-of-factly, trying her best not to smile.

 

“ _No more than you deserve,_ ” Scorpius parrots.

 

The students who were previously reluctant to watch the fiftieth battle between Scorpius and Rose are now amazed, hanging on their each and every word.

 

“Then Polly and Georgia are greatly mistaken,” says Rose with feigned shock, shooting Polly a mock-incredulous look. “They swear you do.”

 

“Albus and Lorcan _swore_ you were crazy about me.”

 

“Polly and Georgia swore _you_ were crazy about _me_.”

 

Scorpius raises an eyebrow, and takes a bold stride towards Rose. “Oh. So, you... _don’t_ like me, then?”

 

“No more than I would any other friend.”

 

_Friend? Friend? What’s this about being_ friends _?_  Over half the witnesses evidently think after this, muttering amongst themselves.

 

“So this…letter I found inside your bag,” Scorpius begins, pulling a small, folded piece of parchment out of his breast pocket that Rose wrote only the night before in preparation for the scheme. “Declaring your seemingly unrequited love for me….is this not your handwriting?”

 

At this point, it would be more or less appropriate for the entire crowd to have a brief seizure. 

 

Rose bites her lip with faux-anxiety, then challenges Scorpius with a firm but knowing glare. “Well, how about this letter, addressed to myself, written in your own unmistakable handwriting, promising that you will never stop loving me until the day you die?”

 

Somebody in the back gags with shock, and Albus and Polly’s faces are marked with deep confusion and puzzled delight.

 

“Would you look at that?!” cries Scorpius in exaggerated exasperation. “Our own hands against our hearts! Fine. I’ll go out with you, but mind you, I’m only doing it out of pity.”

 

“I won’t decline the offer,” Rose replies coyly, taking a small step closer to him and pressing her letter to his chest. “But just so you don’t kill yourself over me. It’s taken a lot of persuasion but, I guess I’ll tolerate kissing you if it means you won’t waste away.”

 

With a gentler, far more earnest grin, Scorpius replies softly “in that case, let me shut you up for once.”

 

Then, with much more care in their movement but without any less passion than they did the day before at the lake, they sweep in for the killing blow — a tender, mostly unexpected kiss.

 

With this, the entire crowd goes mental.

 

Cheering, jeering, cries of general incredulous bemusement — and, above it all, Albus and Polly’s yelps of approval.

 

Through one of the windows in this now legendary hallway, the sweet melody of a straying songbird trickles through the gaps in the panels, something akin to ‘ _Clementine_ ' intertwined with ‘ _La Cucaracha_ ’.

 

 

~~~

 

_Sing no more ditties, sing no more_

_Of dumps so dull and heavy_

_The fraud of men was ever so_

_Since summer first was leavy_

_Then sigh not so, but let them go_

_And be you blithe and bonny_

_Converting all your sounds of woe_

_Into Hey, nonny nonny!_

**Author's Note:**

> In case you were wondering, yes, this is very much adapted from Much Ado About Nothing, down to most of the dialogue. I translated it into modern English while still trying to keep the original essence of the lines, and hopefully that worked out well. In any case, this was just for a bit of fun, and I hope it entertains!


End file.
